Chapter 14
Reese
"Every time I put one of these in my mouth I forget how long it's been since I last had sex."
Snorting a laugh through my nose, I glance up and grin at Cleo as she licks chocolate frosting off of her fingertips. Just past her shoulder, beyond the glass storefront, I see our small town coming to life on this sunny Thursday morning.
The Broken Cupcake sits right in the middle of town square, with the flower shop on the left and a jewelry store on the right. Renting this spot was Viv's idea. She figured that since cake goes so well with flowers and diamonds, there was really no better place for our bakery.
Our rent is steep compared to other eateries around town but it’s worth it. We make serious bank on Mother's Day, Valentine's Day, Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas…Basically all cleverly-marketed festivities that masquerade as opportunities to celebrate communal values when they’re really just an excuse to buy things we don’t need and stuff our faces.
"You should trademark that," Cleo suggests wisely as she wipes her hands on a napkin and adjusts the lapels of her double-breasted, pin-stripped Donna Karan powersuit. "Cupcakes so moist they'll make you forget your dry spell."
I stretch her change out to her. "Thanks for the suggestion." I'm not sure if Vivian will be open to that slogan but it's a thought.
And right now, I’d rather think about anything to avoid thinking about what happened last night.
Because last night, MY NEIGHBOR KISSED ME!!!
Holy lady boner!
He locked his arms around my back, he pressed my body close to his and he slid those soft, pillowy lips over mine. Soft but electric. Languid and exploratory. He gave me a little taste of him and left my body screaming for more.
I spent the night, wide awake in my bed, replaying the kiss in my head. Under the covers, probing my pussy with my fingers while wishing it were his cock instead.
He gave me a little piece of himself. A tiny sample. And now I’m itching to peel back the rest of those callused layers to indulge in the whole package. Just thinking about it makes me ache.
If I’m not careful, this feeling will lead me to do something stupid, something that can’t be undone.
As much as I try to fight it, my attraction to this man keeps growing. The gloomy shadows in his pale eyes, the anxious grooves running across his forehead, the tense strain in his shoulders. I want to know the reasons—although I’m probably better off keeping my distance—and that kiss did nothing but intensify my curiosity, my longing.
I turn my full attention back to Cleo as she dumps the coins into my tip jar and tucks the paper bills into her wallet. "Any time, lovely!" She gives me a cheeky wink.
Cleo is one of my favorites (and not just because she’s Nova’s mom). Thrice divorced, she finally gave up on love after her last husband left her up to her eyeballs in debt. She got into real estate in her late forties and turned things around. Now, she's a self-made woman and she has the bumper sticker to prove it.
She’s a central part of my weekday routine. She comes into the shop every morning at 7:59 on the nose and orders the same damn thing—a triple chocolate pecan cupcake and a tall decaf coffee with cream, two sugars and a pump of vanilla—she then leans against the counter, making post-coital noises and offering unsolicited business advice as she devours her sugary breakfast.
When she sashays out of here at 8:05, I get a chance to flip over the open sign. Bob and Shirley, the perpetually bickering senior couple, usually amble in a few minutes later for vanilla cupcakes. They grab their favorite table by the window and take advantage of the free coffee refills until it's time for them to go home for their late morning nap.
Levine and Riggs, the hot cop duo, often stroll in around 9:00 for the box of donuts that gets them through their shift. Levine, recently married, usual goes for three jelly-filled donuts. Meanwhile, Riggs, the unrepentant flirt, just flashes his dimpled smile and tells me that he'll take whatever I put in front of him.
The evil soccer moms turn up just after mommy and baby yoga class, with their strollers and their diaper bags and their holier-than-though attitudes. Their ill-mannered kids hoot and holler until they wear themselves out just in time for lunch.
So the Broken Cupcake is a morning hot spot in this town and I'm used to the routine. It's what I'm familiar with. Even seeing Charlie's pickup truck pulling up to the curb right before noon isn't out of the ordinary…
But the sight of Leo, sliding his long, lean body out of the front passenger's seat with that brooding, hot-dad look on his face...the sight of his muscular forearms peering out from under the rolled-up sleeves of his powder blue henley...the sight of his thick, paint-speckled fingers pushing through his dark blond hair as he follows my brother through the front door? That's new and as my mouth goes dry, I realize that I'm totally unequipped to deal with it.